


How is this my life?

by FangirlWolfie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Childhood Friends, Famous Harry, M/M, Musician Harry, Non-famous Draco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-10-01 02:52:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10179068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FangirlWolfie/pseuds/FangirlWolfie
Summary: Draco opens the door. Oh.





	

Draco looks at his childhood friend just chilling outside the door to his apartment in this shit-hole of a town. Harry’s different from the bowl-cut nerd whom had worshipped Draco during primary school. His raven hair is now styled into a neat wave and Harry’s clothes aren’t too big anymore. Actually they fit scarily perfect, almost like they were custom-made. For all Draco knows maybe they were?

“What are you doing here?” Draco asks as he suspiciously glances at the person he ten years ago had considered his best friend. His only friend really.

Harry smiles at him. Draco feels something inside his chest, something suspiciously alike ache because he recognizes that smile. He’s been on the receiving end of it too many times not to. It’s honest and carefree and for some reason Draco had thought it to be lost in time.

“I came to visit an old friend,” Harry’s voice is dark, rich. Nothings like Draco’s that’s a mess of sarcasm, passive aggressiveness and that drawl he never managed to rid himself off. Draco hates to listen to himself on recordings. Something he figures Harry has no problem with.

“I see no old friends lurking nearby,” Draco says before he dramatically turns around to look _behind_ him, then to his _right_ and _left_.

Harry laughs. Draco hates how delighted the sound makes him. Because he is. Delighted.

“I feel crazy for thinking you would be different. But I just thought,” Harry pauses, his emerald eyes traveling up and down Draco’s rumpled form. “I just thought you’d be like others.”

“Others?”

“Other old friends.”

Draco’s smirk (one that he hadn’t allowed to lurk around his mouth in the first place) dies naturally at the statement. “So this is something you do? Look up old friends?”

Harry looks a bit concerned as he shakes his head firmly. “No,” he says. “I’ve met them around, I haven’t come looking for them.”

“Like you’ve come looking for me?”

Harry nods again, his hair moving softly without looking any less perfect. It was still a raven wave frozen in time, just slightly different.

“Why?” Draco is curious because ten years ago Harry had moved and even though they’d tried to keep in contact in the end they hadn’t. Draco doesn’t blame Harry for the unanswered letters; they were both kids for Christ sake. Draco got new friends and Harry… well Harry had _certainly_ gotten new friends.

Harry rolls his eyes as if Draco’s question is a bother rather than a sane fucking healthy reaction. “I need new friends. Or rather, an old one.”

Draco can’t help but think that Harry’s ‘ _need friends’_ -answer is laughably unimaginative at best, insulting at worst.

“We’re not on demand.”

Harry sighs as he drags a large hand through his hair. Draco can’t help but allow his silvery eyes to follow the rough fingers as they comb through raven straws. Harry isn’t all that small anymore. He’s neither scrawny nor weak and he certainly won’t need a sharp tongue to fend off bullies. Not like during the sandbox-days.

“I know you’re not _on_ demand,” he says allowing his big paw of a hand to fall back against his side. Thinking of it, Draco has to look up to stare Harry in the face. Christ, the boy did grow tall.

“Good, so give me a better reason. A true one.”

Harry appears to be walking the line between frustrated and utterly fond as he shakes his head. “It was the true one. I do need a friend.”

“I seriously doubt that,” Draco’s good with passive aggressiveness and he now uses that in full. There’s no way Harry lacks in the “ _friends_ ” department. Just no way. And Draco doesn’t appreciate being lied to.

“Why do you find that so hard to believe?” Harry sounds genuinely curious and if Draco wasn’t aware of how much change during ten years apart he might have believed Harry’s blue-eyed lies. But he knows. He sure as fuck knows. And if Draco has changed then Harry’s been through five wars and ten lifetimes.

“Because,” Draco says casually, like pointing out the obvious is something he does every day. Almost like he’s used to being the narrator of life. “Because you’re Harry Potter, winner of three Goblets of Music and what was it the Daily Predictions said: ‘ _A household name_ ’?”

Harry looks almost gleeful at the information of Draco being ‘ _up-to-date’_. “Oh, you care!”

Draco bristles. “I’m not blind! So fuck you Harry for ‘ _needing’_ friends! I need to pass my next exams and I need to work to pay rent so don’t come here with your weirdness and famousness. I don’t have time to be a groupie or bobble head or what the hell it is you’re looking for!”

Harry’s eyes brighten and Draco almost breathlessly thinks ‘ _oh’_ as he witness how the glowing green zeroes in on him. So Harry needs _that_ kind of friend. A kind like Draco, the very opposite of a bobble head.

“Hollywood,” Draco continues, refusing to voice his discovery. “Hollywood will provide you with pretty things who look at you and call you buff and offer whatever maintenance you stars need.”

“You don’t live in Hollywood,” Harry points out as he takes a step forward. Draco feels dreadfully unprepared as he retreats slightly, his chest swelling and that damn smile returning to his lips. How can someone so big and famous still remain so very much the same eleven year old?

“Correct observation. Is it now I’m suppose to praise your superior IQ?”

Harry looks so pleased that Draco wonders if he’s about to start purring. “Never stop talking Draco,” Harry basically purrs and yes, there it is. “I’m going to hold a mike against that big mouth of yours and force you to keep on talking shit about my hair until your lips fall off.”

“Well,” Draco’s mouth is doing that smiley-thing it usually refuses to do during hangover mornings. “Your hair is on the contrary quite nice.”

Harry Potter is hugging him. And his embrace span is ridiculous; Draco’s literally drowning. He would maybe sneer about feeling inferior to what is basically two enormous biceps squeezing his head and shoulders to smithereens but he’s maybe busy hugging back. His chest is still swelling and if it wasn’t for Harry’s gigantic arms and huge hands holding him against what was essentially a brick wall of a body he might have flown away.

“You’re so emotional,” Draco complains despite the way his voice sounds neither sarcastic nor passive aggressive. He doesn’t even drawl. But he has apparently retreated back to puberty because his voice is cracking like crazy.

Not that Harry seems to mind.

“Yeah,” and apparently Harry is back to a fifteen-year-old as well instead of a successful twenty-two-year-old because his voice is mountains and valleys. “Please hang out with me?”

Draco is still flying high from being pressed against a warm body as he mumbles into Harry’s soft Henley; “What’s in it for me?”

“Money of course,” Harry laughs wetly against the crown of Draco’s head. “Some fame maybe, the opportunity to ogle some hot girls, a better follow on Instagram and yeah, there’s always the possibility to get free stuff.”

“I already get free pens from the bookshop where I work,” Draco feels his stomach flutter as Harry snickers.

“A new iPhone?”

“Already have one.”

“Xbox?”

“Don’t play.”

“Clothes?”

“Are you implying something?”

Harry squeezes Draco impossible closer while muttering “sorry, sorry,” into his hair.

Draco just allows it all to happen, not giving a rat’s arse about if his neighbours come out and sees Harry fucking Potter hugging him.

“Free tickets to Disneyland?”

“Really Potter?”

“Okay,” Harry withdraws a bit from Draco. He refuses to whimper at the coldness. Harry had been warm.

Harry looks down at him, still with sparkling green eyes and cheekbones sharp enough to chop wood.

“Memories?” he offers at last, his voice serious despite the way his eyes twinkle.

Draco gives him a long stare. “Good ones?” he questions.

Harry nods seriously. “All the good ones.”

Draco stops fighting the smile on his face. God, how is this his life?

Harry just beams back and okay, Draco thinks. Thank _god_ this is his life.

**Author's Note:**

> AN/This was just a short story that’s been on my mind for a while. Hope y’all enjoyed! :D


End file.
